


tryin' to make it easy (I am the voice of reason)

by halfalump



Category: Pod Save America (RPF)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff, Hand Jobs, M/M, Navel-Gazing, Overthinking, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 12:33:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12771153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfalump/pseuds/halfalump
Summary: That late night kiss in D.C. had become another weird thing in a wild list of questionable impulses acted on due to months of sleep deprivation and surviving on too much pizza and Diet Coke. Lovett could run and make this press of lips now into the same kind of memory of foolhardiness. Something they never talked about.He doesn't.





	tryin' to make it easy (I am the voice of reason)

**Author's Note:**

> title by "Wont Let You Leave" by Jenny O. the full portion it comes from being "Please don't think so hard/You have been so far/I'm trying to make it easy /I am the voice of reason" which is basically the thesis of this entire fic.
> 
> pls keep the fourth wall solid and strong. because of my own personal boundaries when it comes to rpf, there are no explicit references to real life partners.

Lovett is not a coward. He just knows how to compute simple risk versus reward, and he knows he doesn’t want to risk this easy friendship he has with Jon, this solid companionship that’s as easy as laughing, for a reward he doesn’t even really _need_. He knew their dynamic. He knew when to make Favs laugh his troubles away as opposed to when to put a comforting hand on his shoulder, and when it was appropriate to use the key to his house without knocking or even texting. It’s become second nature. They have a familiarity forged from years of constant contact- something that’s not worth possibly changing or ruining with fucking around with a romance pipedream that should have been left behind in his fucking twenties.

This is why, when Jon kisses him, soft and delicate, at the office right after ad reads, Lovett’s first instinct is to do the same thing he had done the last time they'd kissed, years and years ago. He had kissed back (who wouldn't?), yet the back of his mind was already giving him a plan to run and pretend this never happened. Calculating the exact amount of time and space needed until eventually he could exaggeratedly hit on Jon and have it be just another joke reinforcing his amor. That late night in D.C. had become another weird thing in a wild list of questionable impulses acted on due to months of sleep deprivation- surviving on too much pizza and Diet Coke. He could make this press of lips the same kind of memory of foolhardiness. Something they never talked about.

That last time, it was Lovett who had leaned away with the same expression that Jon had that morning in the office. ‘ _I don't know what I just did, but I don't think I can take it back.’_ But where Lovett had bolted, Jon’s hand was still clutching Lovett’s elbow like a vice- desperate and saying, “ _even if I could, I don't think I want to.”_

 So Lovett leans back in. Raises his hands to run his thumbs along Jon’s stupid jawline. What the fuck else was he supposed to do?

He does try to put the brakes on soon after, when the kiss gets heated and Pundit barks, confused at what they're doing. She's the best dog in the world and he loves her so much for giving him a reason to step back and place his hand on Jon’s chest, using it to keep space between them, even as Jon has one arm looped around him, warm on his back. He shakes Jon’s hand cupping his cheek. Lets himself get his head.

He looks up at Jon, staring down at him with an unbelievably soft expression. Eyes actually crinkling, looking like all of Lovett’s high school dreams come true. He looks content to just share space like this. Moves the hand on Lovett’s back down to the small of his waist, and Lovett almost wants to jerk away from the press of his fingertips, but that would mean going face first into Jon’s chest and collar. Literally trapped between a warm hand and a hard place.

Lovett just closes his eyes and swallows. When he looks back at Fav’s face, he sees the beginnings of a smile curving the lips he just kissed, with no excuses or apologies falling from that mouth. No regret creasing his face. He seems content to let Lovett have possession of the ball, putting it in his field... court... whatever sports metaphor fits here.

It’s Lovett’s now to do with what he will. And all he can think to say is, “I need another latte.”

Favs laughs, he always laughs, the sound as familiar as Lovett’s own voice, and gathers him into a hug. There’s nothing overtly romantic in it. Exactly as tight and long as the other (two) hugs they’ve had in their years of knowing each other. The only difference is Jon’s head, moved to brush Lovett’s temple with his lips. Not a kiss, but a graze Lovett feels like a brand. He keeps his hand resting on Jon’s chest. Trapped between them.

 - 

Apart from that one moment, Fav’s behavior doesn’t change in the office. Lovett doesn’t really know what to make of that and just tries to follow Jon’s lead and continue with the rhythm they’ve all established with each other, him and Favs and Tommy, natural as anything, despite the fact that Fav’s essentially threw a barrel of monkey wrenches into Lovett’s understanding of them. 

Three days after the kiss, Favs had to work on his laptop after his desktop on his desk had spontaneously turned off for the fifth time. After just unplugging it and sarcastically saying, “We’re gonna pray on it. That’s how it works, right?” he had spent the remaining workday on the floor right across from Lovett’s desk with his legs crossed at his ankles, laptop on his lap and Leo laying his head on his knee. His brow furrowed in concentration and lips twisted and pouted, but body relaxed. Right in Lovett’s line of sight, like some massive soft-bro distraction meant to specifically to torture him. 

It’s when they leave the office, or when they’re driving there- Lovett still carpooling with Favs most days and sitting beside him with two warm fluffy dogs on his lap, even though his own car works now, without a hanger jacked into the ignition- that Lovett is in stark new territory. All the staples of his previous relationship with Favs that he didn't even think about (where to sit on the couch, how to hand him things, when to give him space) are different and it's _fucking infuriating_.

Jon reaches over sometimes at stop lights when they’re in the car and after his usual rustling of Leo’s ears or scratching under Pundit’s chin, he’s started brushing his fingers along Lovett’s arm. A soft stroke, so light Lovett almost wouldn’t feel it if it wasn’t Jon’s hand.

Lovett’s taken to bringing Pundit over to Fav’s and just… staying for a while. Until he can take a breath and extricate himself back to his own house for a few days. 

“Babe.” Jon whines, high and mocking and joking, and Lovett gives a disapproving hum of a grunt at the petname. 

“I have no clean clothes. Pundit has been sharing Leo’s pity toys.” Lovett says, picking up his shirt from the side of Jon’s bed. Jon leans over to grip Lovett’s hip, right at the fleshy part he loves to bite at, the part that makes Lovett squirm. 

“I have a washer dryer, you know. An entire laundry room, even. And you can bring Pundit’s toys over.” He pulls back his hand as Lovett pulls the shirt down over his stomach.

And then what? Bring over and install his game consoles? Horrify Favs by making him experience Lovett’s normal routine of seeing how long he can get by with only ordering food or making frozen dinners? Make a joint gym schedule? They've been doing this for a week and a half and already Lovett feels like he's this close to a giving into a landslide of commitment that would bury them over their heads and probably ruin this whole thing before it could even properly begin. 

“So Leo can steal them for himself? I see how it is. I see what scheme your playing here.”

He looks over his shoulder to give him an exaggerated suspicious look. Favs is still laying back in bed, smiling, naked, and shameless, reaching for his phone on the bedside table (plugged in right after Lovett made him come and they both caught their breaths, because he's a responsible dork, and Lovett finds that endearing), opening it up and no doubt reading some article he’s been meaning to get to.

“What? What happened?” Lovett demands when Jon makes a low disturbed noise.

“Bad take. I'll send it to you.”

“Appreciate that.” Lovett pulls up his sweatpants. He thinks his boxer-briefs are tangled in the twines of the sheets at the foot of the bed but he doesn't want to extract them right now. Decides to let Favs deal with it, he’s the one who mentioned his washer after all. “Share the idiocy and all.”

His shoes are by the living room and Pundit will no doubt come straight towards him as soon as she sees him near the door. Jon is still scrolling through his phone, definitely not making any moves to see him out so before he goes he lets himself give in to kissing Jon goodbye. Means it to be a hard and restrained press of lips, but Jon extends it by putting one hand on the side of Lovett's face when he pulls back and leaning in again to kiss him more gently, slow and sure.

“See ya.” Lovett says and makes himself leave before he crawls back beside him in the bed (again).

-

Jon likes to take Lovett’s face in both of his hands when he kisses him. He smiles indulgently when Lovett rips a dumb tweet or commercial to shreds when they're watching tv. Has a weird thing about rubbing his thumb over Lovett’s ankle when they're on the couch and Lovett has his legs up. He’s taking to being in a this thing with Lovett as easily as he takes to almost anything. Ever a golden boy. All while leaving Lovett unsure of what to do and how to react. His instincts shot. One night after a day filled with news that chips away the faith Lovett has in government, Jon had kept him up with rustling, just not giving in to rest, and when Lovett rolled over to look at him he looked back, bone-weary and haunted, a face of a man who just had his first tragedy rock his life. And Lovett hadn't known what to do. He had just placed an awkward hand on his shoulder, thumb stroking like a pendulum to try and pull Jon to sleep.

When they had left the office the day Jon kissed him and pulled into Jon’s driveway, they still hadn't talked about it. Lovett was still halfway sure this was a fling that would end in secrecy and stilted conversations for a few weeks. But... Jon had kissed him. Right there. In the office. And wasn’t withdrawing it. And so Lovett nodded when Jon looked over at him. And when they went inside, removing their shoes and letting Pundit and Leo go to share Leo’s dog bowl of food, Lovett just trusted his body. Let it react as it wanted when Jon kissed him again and reached down to Lovett’s hips. When he bit at his lip Lovett had let out a slightly garbled groan he wasn’t proud of and Jon had huffed a small laugh into his mouth.

“Can we- I want-”

“Yeah- yeah...” Lovett said, already standing straight and moving towards the bedroom. Jon followed him, hand stroking down his spine as he passed. Lovett suppressed a shiver.

 He’d spent the hours after that one kiss willing his pulse to calm down, and still not quite managing it. They had rejoined the main office to make comments about schedules and work on pieces and call on possible future guests and Lovett went on a tirade against coffee creamer and still he could feel it buzzing under his skin. _Jon Favreau kissed me. And I think he wants to do it again. I want him to want to do it again._ A twinge in his chest that’s been almost numb for a while, starting to turn into a hopeful ache.

Favs makes his bed in the morning and Lovett had taken a slight joy at wrinkling the duvet he knew Fav’s hands had smoothed out. He put his glasses on the bedside table with a muted clatter. Bounced just a bit when he fell back against the bed and heard pillow fall to the ground. It feels good, to make this small corner of Jon’s life a mess when that’s what he’s been doing to Lovett’s head all goddamn day, and for years before that.

Jon turned the bedroom lamp on from the switch by the door, making the room soft and warm. Lovett looked up, leaned on his elbows, and twisted to see the outline of him, slightly blurry at the edges without his glasses,  still standing there in the doorway, and Lovett made himself keep looking. Tried to make his face as challenging as possible. _‘Buck up,’_ he had wanted to say, but he couldn’t quite break this silence between them as they stare at each other. Not quite yet.

“Fuck.” Jon rasped, and suddenly he was taking off his shirt and leaning over Lovett, fingers still slightly cool from the car’s AC when they skirted under the front of his shirt. He put his knee on the bed and Lovett felt  himself slide into his weight a little. His hands were everywhere.

“Careful, showing some desperation there.” Lovett huffed, “I might start to think you like me.”

“Because normally that’s up for debate?” Lovett lifted his arms as Jon moved to take his shirt off. As soon as it was over his head Jon was there pressing a light kiss to his cheek before moving down over his chest. He bit lightly over Lovett’s left nipple, making Lovett choke out a laugh at the ticklish sting of teeth.

“Always. Attacking my clothes, my dog, you- you are downright hostile.” Lovett breathed out. He pressed his hands down and felt the wide expanse of Jon’s bare back, dug his fingers in at the angles of his shoulder blades.

Jon hummed. Just to annoy him. “You should do something about that.”

Lovett would have responded, but the curve of his bottom lip, where he was still smiling, was caught between Jon’s teeth.

When Jon tugged down Lovett’s jeans and underwear, it was forceful with Lovett’s hips moving with the pull of Jon’s hands for a second and sliding him down the bed. He helped kick them off still laughing and Jon smiled at him and kissed the side of his knee, and Lovett would have snorted at the tenderness if his breath hadn't been caught.

Jon had leaned over opening and fumbling in the drawer of the bedside table, had situated himself with his knees bracketing around Lovett’s thighs, and then he was back with one hand placed by Lovett’s face and the other slick and tight with Jon’s thumb doing some creative things as it moved up and down Lovett’s dick. Fuck, he’d thought about this more than he wanted to, more than he definitely should have… but it actually happening? This was gonna be over stupid fast.

Jon played with rhythm and speed, he’d let Lovett’s hips move, had just moved his hand with them, the effect more torturous than if he’d just forced them down into the bed. Lovett wanted to say something about it being perhaps the best handjob he’s ever had, a “thank your fucking repressed catholic teenage libido,” for teaching Jon how to fucking do this, but all he could muster were breathy half-moans that were slightly embarrassing for him but seemed to be working for Jon, if the flash of teeth at his collarbones was any sign.

He lifted his leg, resting it flush against Jon’s hips. He moved his head to the side with his cheek resting on the thumb of Jon’s hand he was using to brace himself over Lovett, and closed his eyes. Bit his lip right at the prickling point where Jon’s own teeth had been, because even if he didn’t think he could say anything coherent, the prospect of what was in his head- the soft thoughts whispering to him between _fuck_ and _Jon’s hand-_ about how much he's _wanted this_ about how he thinks he's _always going to_ , are just too much. They need to be swallowed and kept inside him at all costs. So he had laid there and let his hands wander blindly across the parts of Jon he could reach, lightly circling his throat, moving down to his chest to his stomach, just riding it out until he just... spilled... into Jon Favreau’s hand. Jon still working him through it. Lovett’s hands then gripping Jon’s sides.

He made grabby hands at Jon’s hips, opening and squeezing them, eyes still closed as Jon kissed his forehead and eyelids, “Turn over, I’ll blow you.”

It sounded so stilted and awkward, Lovett still out of breath, but he was already working on game plan. Imagined going for it sloppily and hot, thought about how much Jon liked demonstrations and gestures and how he’d react to Lovett literally drooling for it. About how much he’d like pressing Jon down hard with his hands. Jon groaned, but didn’t move. Stayed hovered above Lovett, his cock still hard from where Lovett could feel the tip where it rested against his hip.

Jon was just looking at him. The same way he does when they're having an argument or looking over each other's writing, calculating, like he's looking for refinement. Lovett raised his arms and looped them around Jon’s shoulders. Smirked, “Trying to be the first person to turn down a blow job?”

“No, it's- can I just?” And Jon buried his face in Lovett’s neck, biting softly, not hard enough to even leave any marks, as he jerked himself. Is… is he using Lovett’s own fucking jizz to jerk himself off? The thought made Lovett’s brain white out for a bit. When he came back to himself he placed one hand clumsily over Jon’s own. Put his other hand graze over Jon’s mouth, and when he opened his mouth Lovett let him chew on the pads of Lovett’s fingers.

It was a great night, one of the best when Lovett thinks back on it, even if they hadn’t really talked through what they were. What they were doing.

-

There’s probably a slew of articles he should read about going from long time friends unable to cross the line into something more to actually being together and still unsure of where they stand. Maybe there's a fucking _Seventeen_ quiz he could take. Or a _Cosmo_ or a motivational twitter thread he should read, “If you wanna put it in, you gotta talk it out,” he can hear his friends telling him. Fuck, it’s something he can hear himself saying.

Are they committed partners? Newly and casually dating, but still best friends? Just fooling around and maybe open to more? Either way he knows that some articles would probably talk about things like boundaries and how taking it slow is smart. That seems to be fundamentally not what they are doing.

But Lovett can do this little bit to assert control, he thinks he can anyway. He can instill this space between them when he goes back to his own home while he figures his shit out.

He was going to order Postmates until he felt self conscious about Favs maybe seeing that from next door, especially when his own leftovers from last night are still sitting in Fav’s fridge, forgotten when Lovett made his escape. So instead he just heats up a frozen bag of something called, “Fiesta Vegetable Medley” he has stuffed in the back of his freezer, mixes it with sad minute rice also from the microwave and douses it with cholula until it tastes like something.

He stays up too late playing the new Dishonoured game on his PS4. Presses sleep on his alarms until Pundit finally gets him up with insistent presses of her nose and by then he’s missed Jon as his morning ride to the office. By the time he’s let her out and fed her and stopped to get Starbucks he gets into their office around ten-thirty. Which he already knows, as he goes into the studio, will of course get brought up during the ads.

Jon leans into the mic for sound levels, all of them shooting the shit to pass the time, “Did you see the Op-Ed for Republicans in Congress to unite behind Trump So they can rein him in?”

“-yeah, not great.” Tommy immediately steps in.

“Like just because he sees a schism to exploit, that’s what’s actually causing the-.”

“It's very, ‘Time for some game theory.’”

Tommy has thoughts and Lovett let's him and Favs go back and forth about the op-ed, talking about what party unity means and how splinters work and watching them trade off frustration. Favs making sawing gestures with his hands as he gets more worked up. They’re definitely peaking the audio, but better now than when they actually record. Lovett halfway wants to keep stoking the fire, see if he can make Jon full on shout, or jerk his body so angrily and forcefully that his headphones fall off, but the slight flurry that happens in his stomach as a result of that image of a Jon slightly out of control makes him put up mental stop signs. He only jumps in to make the occasional comments about the media at large and how it relates to this case study. 

“By the way, like someone like Rand Paul gives a shit about the security of the establishment Republican Party.” Lovett snarks out at the end, feeling gratified when they both laugh. He goes with it. Raising his voice, to add “The only thing that makes Rand Paul smile is when you sacrifice a social safety net under the light of a red moon!”

“Ah, I get it.” Favs says, wry. “Red like a red moon and red like Republican. That's a thinker.” Effectively destroying the joke, and Lovett’s joy, as he is wont to do. He’s looking at Lovett with fond exasperation. It's a usual look Jon’s directed at him, but there's something in the corners of his eyes, in the way he's leaning his shoulders towards Lovett that makes his breath catch slightly. He wants to stick his tongue out at him like he's in elementary school. He wants to pinch the bit of skin between Fav’s thumb and pointer finger at the dig and then lace them together. It makes him frustrated.

“Yeah, well, I like to keep the people on their toes.” Lovett retorts.

 “Just don’t tweet it.” Jon’s voice is that bossy low hum that normally makes him want to rise to higher levels of ridiculousness, but now Lovett’s stomach now twists with want at it. “We don’t need ‘in poor taste’ twitter fights, right now.”

“Luckily I don’t get into fights. I make statements and take a stand.”

Jon snorts and Lovett breaks his gaze from his face, turns to his right to address Tommy, who’s more safe to look at in this moment “So, Tommy,” he says, forcing a mock-interviewer cadence and tone, “I’m generally the math guy but tell me: does giving Trump twice the characters mean getting into a nuclear war in half the tweets?”

“Well,” Tommy says, playing along like it’s a serious topic, voice mock serious, but eyes weary, “the potential is there, but it also means we don’t have to see him try to thread tweets anymore… or the weird ellipses thing.”

“Nah, I think the ellipses will get worse. More times to just repeatedly angrily press the period key with his tiny pudgy hands.”

When they return to their desks after recording the actual episode Lovett logs into his computer and immediately puts on his headphones and tries to avoid Jon’s gaze as he gets himself more under control. What? Like they’re gonna PDA all over the office now? Is that even what Lovett wants?

He’s always been a private person in regards to relationships. He does double dates and group outings and prefers for all of his people to know and like each other, but for the most part he likes being low-key and discreet. His last break up from a long term relationship had seen both Tommy and Favs coming over with two six packs between them to try and make him feel better about his ex choosing a career opportunity over moving to LA to be with him. It took a while of him saying, “I mean we discussed it together. I told him to go for it.” and, “I'll just replay Prey and eat pizza for like a week, and then complain about the carbs.” and, “It’s not like we aren't gonna be friends once we readjust.” and, “I swear to God, I will gross, ugly cry until you both _stop_ trying to fucking ‘comfort’ me.” before they realized he was completely uninterested in the straight bro version of this post-breakup ritual. Like Lovett wouldn't pick someone who would choose their passion over a relationship. Like that extreme determination and enthusiasm isn't what attracts him in the first place. Like he hasn't always tethered himself to shiny and ambitious people that can give him focus when he wants too much and loses perspective. He wants someone who makes him slightly yearning. Someone who makes him feel comfortable enough to question himself and his thoughts. Someone who makes him feel secure that he could keep growing and trying. Someone he could evolve with.  

So Jon’s easy amicability has always made him feel off-balance, way from the very hostile beginning. When they were both green and bumbling in the White House, Lovett could never tell whether Jon actually liked him, or if he was just affable with everyone. Then he could never tell whether he thought Lovett was actually competent, or just humoring him. He could never tell whether the fingers brushing the back of his neck were an exception for him, or if they were just a tactile demonstration of love Favs has for everyone he cares about. He regularly threw an arm around someone’s shoulders. He was a person who hugged, touched forearms, said “love you, man,” Lovett had even seen him nuzzle foreheads with Tommy once at a bar in DC. Jon Favreau was just one of those touchy bros, he had to keep reminding himself then, chill the fuck out.

He looks down to see Jon on his knees playing with Leo on the floor, tugging a rope toy and watching Leo pounce to try and get it from him. Pundit looks on from Leo’s felt cushion that she's claimed as her own, floppy and aloof and perfect.

Jon looks up and smiles at him, and Lovett removes his headphones to catch him saying, “Hey, Tommy and I were talking, do you wanna go to that new restaurant a couple streets down for dinner? The one with the pink neon sign?”

“Sure, yeah. I need to get the most obnoxious drink I see.” The place looked like a 60s diner mixed with a gay bar. He’d been trying to rope someone into going with him for a week. It was probably going to close within the year, but he wanted to experience it before it went. Send it off right with a memory of its ridiculousness and sugared liquor making his tongue some pastel color.

He looks over at Fav’s desk, and the dormant computer screen. “Is your desktop still crashing?” 

“Oh, yeah. Looked on the website on my phone and made an Apple appointment on my laptop. I can work from it for now until we get an IT guy out here. Most stuff’s on our cloud.”

Lovett snorts. Already pulling out his phone and pulling up the page he’d bookmarked when he had looked up in the issues Favs had whined about earlier. Favs is a lot of things, but handy isn’t necessarily one of them. Not that Lovett is either, but he knows when to make do with something instead of setting foot in a Home Depot and he knows how to google and watch YouTube tutorials, like any millennial (even if he is on the older end of the spectrum). Jon types in something and then looks around official websites to find it, like the official way to do it is better. Like no one else probably hasn't had this exact problem before. Like Yahoo Answers and Reddit and Quora aren't fucking things. Instead of just typing in the problem. For all the twitter fights he get in, Favs doesn’t really get the wonders of the internet. If there has to be a void everyone screams incessantly into, at least it's categorizable and relatively easily searched.

“Honestly, I’m the backbone of the company.” he mutters while pulling out the small tool case Favs and Tommy had gotten for him to keep in the office after he’d fixed the TV with a butter knife, just in case the key commands he’d pulled up came up fruitless, “What would you do without me?”

Jon just smiles up at him from the floor and this is familiar. Lovett doesn’t even have to think about smiling back.

 - 

Lovett does get the most ridiculous drink they have on their menu. Some layered bright thing that comes in a glass like a milkshake and tastes like fancy gushers. He steals sips of Tommy’s artisanal ale thing he got. Fidgets with his fingers under the table and lowers his head to the straw while Favs and Tommy talk sports and only interrupting to mock the truly horrendous Boston-bro things.

They have a good rapport of how to talk about things that aren't politics. They’ve learned to separate because they’ve had to. But Lovett would still rather talk about Trump and rehash the 2016 election in every painstaking detail over his sweet potato fries instead of staying there in the corner booth in his usual spot between Tommy and Favs when the conversation turns to Tommy’s personal entanglements. It starts with Lovett inviting telling Tommy to invite the girl he’s seeing to that Friday’s show, since it had come up that she liked a guest he had managed to book for that week. And Tommy had done his choked laugh, the one that makes puppy’s hearts break and and all of Lovett’s friends try to coddle him, and says, “We might not still be together by then, but I’ll keep it in mind just in case.”

Lovett is good at only a few specific deep topics. Death, imminent ascension of baby-boomer evil, morbid jokes about ironic tragedy… but he’s not built for heartbreak and complicated human feelings. He’s not great at comforting friends and mothering and quiet support. He’ll try to give a supportive squeeze of a shoulder or a clap on the back, but always ends up punctuating it with a joke that feels stale in his mouth, even as he says it.

Tommy stares down at his steak, and looks for all the world like some ghost in a Victorian mansion. Some proper English school boy who died of some disease when he was young and now haunts the halls playing pranks on the living. Like that cousin from The Secret Garden, but more sad, and less whiney, at least from what he remember- Lovett hasn’t read that book since he was ten. And Lovett can’t make it better for him. So he does what he always does when he doesn’t know what to do, he turns to Jon.

 Jon, always better at these things, looks at Tommy, head cocked sympathetically, leaning in with his elbows on the table “Did anything happen or?”

“Nah. Just.” Tommy takes a gulp from his glass, looks down at his plate again. “We want different things, I think.”

Jon waits for Tommy to continue. Not as opposed to silence as Lovett is. It’s the same thing he did when Lovett was stuck on his part in a speech. Wait for him to talk it out. Get it all out in the open, wait expectantly for the other person to say everything they didn’t even know they needed to say.

“That sucks.” Lovett eventually says. Because he know’s how hard it is to wait in silence to gather your thoughts to talk to Jon. Because he knows how much Tommy wanted it to work out. Because that’s all he can think to add. 

“I just don’t want to do the dating for a while and being light and the ‘seeing how it goes’ thing.” Tommy says. “I don’t want to get to know someone and just see them walk away. Christ, I’m almost forty, you know?”

Lovett’s this close to saying, “But you don’t look a day over twelve, you still look fresh from the womb of the WASP factory.” But this isn’t a time for a bad running joke and Lovett doesn’t want to say the wrong thing when his friend is essentially bearing his fucking heart to them. God, he hates this so much.

“Like. Not to be pathetic and cliche, but I want what you guys have, kinda. Like. It’s solid, you know? There’s a foundation you can build on. Like you left-” Tommy says looking at Lovett, “because you didn't work out the first time and it was _that_ painful and then _you_ ” gesturing towards Favs, “followed him! Like some sort of CBS primetime drama thing.”

“What.” Lovett says, not a question, just statement of bewilderment. He suddenly fantasizes that he wasn’t in the middle of the corner booth and wasn’t thirty-five and didn’t feel the need to be mature and stay here so he could just slip out and run away like he’s five. Wishes absently that he was shameless enough to duck under the table and literally crawl under it to escape so he wouldn’t have to be here anymore. Lovett wasn't even fully sure Tommy knew about him and Jon, even if he seems to have gotten some things wrong about what did happen in DC. Of course, he thinks, best friends probably wouldn’t have to tell each other outright, he had always known instinctively when Tommy or Jon was seeing someone before. It still feels new sometimes, even after almost a decade, having best friends he knows like this, and being known in return.

He knows Jon’s seen him tense up, and Lovett moves his leg until it presses against Jon’s own thigh. Trying to tell him not to worry about him right now. He’s here, and yeah he’s freaking out a little, but Lovett’s not and shouldn’t be Jon’s main focus.

“Tommy...” Jon says gently. And Tommy slouches and rolls his head back until it meets the top of the booth, looking up towards the neon light covered ceiling. Rubs his hands down his face.

“It just… yeah, Lovett. It fucking sucks.”

“Have you tried talking it out? Just being clear and communicate.” Jon suggests.

“Planning on bringing it up at lunch on Friday." Tommy give an ugly chuckle. "Hence the timeline.”

“Well then you might be borrowing trouble.” Jon leans back against the booth, stretches his arms along the sides. Lovett feels the brush of his left hand as it settles behind his shoulder. “It’s always important to discuss shit like this.”

And... Unbelievable. Lovett wants to snort. Wants to say, “Ha!” loud and obnoxious for that ‘do as I say not as I do’ bullshit. On one level, he knows that Jon not refusing on what Tommy’s guessed about their relationship has answered his own anxious questions about the nature of what they are. A realization from the same silence that worried him. There’s some niggling humor in the thought, like it could be funny- even if only in a sick debilitating way where he can’t figure out whether he’s the punchline or the setup. It’s an ironic way to reach an epiphany. Maybe it should make him feel butterflies, but he only feels bubbling irritation.

He puts his chin in his hand instead, pulls a long-suffering face at Tommy and rolls his eyes in the direction of Jon, shaking his head, hoping to get it across that way. _Fucking hypocrite._ Tommy smiles at him, probably thinking it’s a bit.

He knows he has to steel himself now. When they get back to the office and pick up Pundit and Leo to take them home. Lovett already knows he’s going to go with Jon. He’ll leave his car in the parking garage overnight, he’ll have to move it tomorrow for street cleaning, he’s already putting a reminder in his phone, but tonight he has to tie himself to Jon. He knows that he’s never going to get a better opening than this, and he’s never going to feel more brave than now to finally confront him. He spends the car ride focusing on what he wants his attack plan to be. Coming up with a strategy and eliminating the things he wants to ask, but knows aren't essential. Like the timeline of Jon’s feelings. How long had Jon wanted a relationship with him? Since they started Crooked? Since DC? He shoots down that possibility. It’s hard enough to have two people just come at the same time, how do you expect two people to fall in love at the same time?

So when he does let Pundit off her leash when he gets into Jon’s home, he turns away from Jon’s hands and stares at him. As heated with him as he’s ever felt. Including that one time in the March of 2011 when Jon had returned the edits with ridiculous and ruthless marks, right after Lovett had handed in his notice. “Communication, huh?”

“Seemed like what he needed to hear.” Jon says, he moves towards the kitchen to fill up the dog bowls for Pundit and Leo. Lovett follows him.

“You have a lot of nerve, you know that?”

“I- no?” Jon turns to looks at him, Lovett makes sure his face shows the same storminess that he feels inside, and Jon looks lost as he tries to decipher what it means. “I think I’ve lost the thread here.” He says, eventually.

“You just spent an entire meal composing a treatise like some sort of relationship guru, not thinking that maybe you should have that conversation with the person who didn’t even know he was in a relationship with you?”

“I- what?”

He can’t look at Jon right now. Not when they’re doing this misunderstanding rom-com bullshit. Lovett goes to the fridge to see if his Postmates is still there. It is. He needs to throw it away, it’s definitely gone hard and dry, but he still snags a piece of the wrap that’s already been cut and stuffs it to his mouth as he tosses it in the trash.

“You’ve never said anything.” He continues, forcing casual. “Not a word. Not a text. Not a smoke signal. Not a boombox held aloft outside my window. Nothing definitive. I thought this might have been a friends-with-benefits thing, which… to be honest, did make me feel like a college kid again, so in hindsight-”

“I want this to be a relationship. I thought this was- is a relationship. I don’t want this to be a ‘friends-with-benefits’ thing.”

“I got that when you didn’t immediately backtrack to Tommy at the restaurant, yeah.” He turns around to look at him.  “I thought we were taking this like some easy-breezy LA thing, and we were just letting it go where it wanted. I didn’t know you had already defined the relationship and just declined to fucking tell me.”

“I didn’t think I _had to_. I thought you were just being skittish and waiting for me to break up with you. I was hoping that after a while, maybe another week or even another month, you would get that wasn’t going to happen.” Jon cuts right to the heart, direct and precise as always, “That even if there's... problems, I'd rather work through them with you than be without them with someone else.”

Lovett often feels like he has a bleeding heart, something that’s been hardened while still gushing. Like he feels too much for invalid reasons. Invested to a stupid degree. And he's always been slightly in awe of Jon, who can feel so much and so passionately and get stung so badly, but never get brittle. Never feel like his own heart is corroding itself. Or at least never show it like Lovett does. Lovett thinks back to that night Jon’s eyes had looked hollow, where Lovett couldn't figure any words to get that expression off his face. Wonders idly of how many other nights Jon had had like that but alone, and feels cold.

Jon holds his hand up before Lovett can respond. Eyes staring right into the fucking core of him. “Okay, so let me talk about our relationship then. We _can_ make this work. I trust we can make this work.”

Back in DC Lovett was slightly floored by how steadfast Jon seemed to feel everything. How he was genuine in every emotion he expressed- whether it be his anger, his joy. His fucking everything shined out of him like a beacon. He was so passionate about everything involved in his job- so completely and consumingly, that it made Lovett dizzy and guilty because he wasn’t as enamoured by his carreer, for all he did like it, for all it did give him purpose and direction, it wasn’t to same extent as Jon; and Jon’s style of heading his department seemed to be based on his belief that everyone drank the same kool-aid he had. He's still floored by it, occasionally, even after all these years.

It's overwhelming, being the recipient of Jon’s ardor and shine. Being _loved_ like this by him, he realizes. It's like preparing for a really hard level, spacing out because you know you're not going to make it through the boss this time, but somehow you do. It makes him feel unsure and suspicious. He tries to push those thoughts away, focus on what's happening now. 

“I can't- I don't-” he makes himself stop. Refocus. “I’m trying. I don't know if that's enough here.” He feels scooped out. Open and exposed. “But I- I’ll keep trying.”

“Okay.”

 - 

“I didn't, by the way. I didn’t leave because of you.” Lovett says later, when they’re watching TV. He feels Jon look at him, expression probably completely open, but Lovett’s steadfastly keeps his gaze straight ahead. He feels this is important to say. He doesn’t want Jon to get the wrong idea, and he wants to be clear.

“Okay.” Jon reaches out and gently touches Lovett's hand with his own, fingertips resting against it. “But, I did, though. Follow you.”

He's so stupidly romantic. He really should be with someone who would appreciate it. Instead, Lovett just feels slightly guilty that he's somehow gotten Fav’s affections in all of their quiet demonstrations. He laces their fingers together, locks them in a tight grip. Hoping to say to express everything he feels that way. But eventually he breaks, looks at Jon where he’s leaning against the couch cushions, still looking at Lovett.

“I really fucking glad you did.”

For right now, it feels like enough.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to [angelorum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelorum/pseuds/angelorum)  
> for cheering me on and reading it over
> 
> I'm on Tumblr at [extendedscreeching](https://extendedscreeching.tumblr.com) and sometimes I post snippets and ficlets, but mostly I just cry there over the podsa guys. you're welcome to cry with me
> 
> please feel free to tell me of any glaring errors or weird things I could fix!


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